Stella this day is thirty-four, <br /> (We shan't dispute a year or more:) <br /> However, Stella, be not troubled, <br /> Although thy size and years are doubled, <br /> Since first I saw thee at sixteen, <br /> The brightest virgin on the green; <br /> So little is thy form declin'd; <br /> Made up so largely in thy mind. <br /> <br /> Oh, would it please the gods to split <br /> Thy beauty, size, and years, and wit; <br /> No age could furnish out a pair <br /> Of nymphs so graceful, wise, and fair; <br /> With half the lustre of your eyes, <br /> With half your wit, your years, and size. <br /> And then, before it grew too late, <br /> How should I beg of gentle Fate, <br /> (That either nymph might have her swain,) <br /> To split my worship too in twain.<br /><br />Jonathan Swift<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stella-s-birthday-march-13-1719/
